Phlebotomous’ Milk Drink

Phlebotomous' drink

We have been inundated today by an unbelievable number of readers asking us exactly what  was the milk drink that Mr Bosch, from our hit story The Cornish Curse, was drinking before his bedtime. A flurry of rumours floated around the internet, forcing us to remind folk that Phlebotomous might be a vampire, but he is a vegetarian. To quell further rumours and to allow people a taste of The Benthic Times, the recipe is produced below:

1 Cup Warm Milk

1 Star Anise

1 Stick Cinnamon

1 Grating of Nutmeg

Instructions

Combine ingredients in cup. Allow to settle so tastes infuse (but not too much so milk grows cold). Take to room and drink. Turn out light. Turn light back on again when you realise it is still a little dark and hence frightening. Sleep until evening.

 

 

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 11

“What a marvellous evening and what a marvellous host,” said Mr Mallum at the breakfast table with all the family and guests. “I had the time of my life. How did everyone else fare?”

“It was very pleasant indeed,” said Marie.

“When is it full moon?” said Patience.

“Why do ask?” said Mrs Mallum.

“No reason,” said Patience.

“Tonight,” said Constance, “I think.”

“Then I had better…” started Sir John. “I shall call on Lord du Bois to thank him for the ball.”

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” said Mr Mallum. “I shall accompany you.”

“No!” said Sir John and Marie together.

“It will be better I go alone,” said Sir John. “Because … I have some matters to discuss.”

“I see,” said Mr Mallum uncertainly. “If you think that’s best.”

CC Ch 11“Special Place?”

“Mr Bosch, shall the maid prepare your bedtime milk drink?” said Mrs Mallum.

“That would be very nice,” said Phlebotomous,” I may take it up to my room, I’m a little overtired from the dancing.”

“Yes, it was nice of the girls to all dance with you during that waltz,” said Mr Mallum. “They practically ran across the room! Clara Monkfish was rather surprised, actually. I think she’ll recover, it was only a small fall from when Patience ran into her.”

“You room,” said Prudence, “would you say that was a special place?”

Her sisters all glared at her.

“It’s … a pleasant room,” said Phlebotomous warily.

“But not … special?” said Prudence.

“I’m sure Mr Bosch’s room is perfectly adequate,” said Mrs Mallum.

“Mrs Jennings, you may care to go for a walk this afternoon,” said Phlebotomous. “Before Sir Jennings goes out.”

“Oh!” said Marie. “Yes, thats a very good idea.”

“To the special place,” said Phlebotomous to Marie, and the four sisters all watched him attentively.

“Yes, I understand,” said Marie.

“Where the flowers are, in fact,” said Phlebotomous, “where I walked last night.”

“Yes,” said Marie, “it is perfectly clear.”

“So that…” continued Phlebotomous.

“Yes,” said Sir John, “we understand.”

“Well, I shall be off to sleep then,” said Phlebotomous.

“So Mr Bosch,” said Constance, “the special place is on your evening walk?”

“Yes,” said Phlebotomous. “Oh, wasn’t that clear, I can explain again.”

“No,” said Constance, “I understand.”

The maid brought Phlebotomous a cup of warm milk with a spice infusion, and he left the room.

“Mr Mallum, is this silverware real silver?” asked Sir John.

“Yes, Sir Jennings,” said Mr Mallum. “Unlike Lord du Bois we must make do with the basics. But it is of the highest quality for the material.”

“Could I borrow this knife?” said Sir John.

“Of course,” said Mr Mallum. “Er … any particular reason?”

“Not really,” said Sir John.

“Well I must say, everyone is being very cryptic this morning,” said Mr Mallum. “No doubt there is some jolly jape I’m not aware of. Maybe … did somebody have a special conversation with Lord du Bois?”

Mr Mallum looked meaningfully at his daughters who all groaned quietly.

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 12

Letter to the Editor

Dear Sir/Madam

I am, I believe, a tolerant man and as a man of the cloth, it is well that I should be. However I saw something last week in your Benthic Times which created a profound sense of unease within my breast and which forced me to write to you.

My young nephew Silas has of late been staying at the vicarage whilst his mother recovers from a bout of bilious ague. He is, like many young men, impressionable and given to romantic notion, although he is a good sort, dedicating a part of each day helping out at Mrs Ginnidraws School for Fallen Ladies. Of an evening he will often be seen, though, reading the sort of sensational literature that your magazine also contains. I happened to glance last week and saw something so mortifying that I was forced to extract the magazine from his hand. For there, in plain view, was a plant being presented as Aconite which was clearly another species. I could not allow him to be exposed to such shoddy botany. It seemed as if the creator of the image had looked in their locale for a plant that was similar and attempted to pass off a clear example of Gluteus Maximus – or Ruddy Whackweed – as Aconite.

As a keen yet amateur botanist I recognised not only the plant, but also the locale it must have come from. You see, Ruddy Whackweed is not to be found in Cornwall or even the British Isles, but is a native of Greece. I recognised it from my walking tour of the Dodecanese last spring. Well sir, madam, I present below some of my botanical notes to educate you in the hope that you don’t find yourself using the wrong species again.

4This species is Flora Extraterrestralis or Mouldy Goat Hair. It can be used to prepare a poultice for foxy.

1This is Stella Inconsequentia known as Sticky Chive or Stinky Chive. It is used primarily in salads and is believed by primitive peoples to ward off people with a squint.

7This is known as Stultus Flos or Exploding Jenny. It is poisonous to rodents between 1 and 1 half and 2 inches long.

8This plant is Pigor Scriptor or Incompetent Orchid. It has no known use.

10This is Disculpi Tardi or  Scrote Violet. It is a powerful sedative or stimulant depending on wind direction.

I trust this little guide to the fauna of the Greek Isles will prevent a similar instance of botanic mislabelling.

Yours

Rev Johan Stiltburger

Cringingham

Somerset

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 10

“Well, Sir John, how goes the investigation,” said Lord du Bois to Sir John as the ball whirled around them. “Any new leads?’

“Not as such,” said Sir John. “We’ve heard a number of hair-raisings stories, more than a few of which were a little tall. But nothing that forms a pattern, nothing to help us find the creature.”

“Oh well,” said du Bois. “If the worst that happens is you meet a few souls and dance a few reels, the night won’t be a complete loss. Have some food as well, I had this all specially made.”

Lord du Bois indicated the spread of food next to them, which was equally matched in its generosity and quality.

“Thank you, Lord du Bois,” started Sir John.

“Vulpine, please!” said du Bois. “Ah, here comes your lovely wife. Bonsoir madame.”

“Bonsoir, Lord du Bois,” said Marie. “This is a most pleasant evening.”

“As I hoped,” said du Bois. “And I … is that aconite?”

“Maybe,” said Marie. “It was picked locally.”

“Good God, you must take it off at once!” said du Bois. Marie looked shocked.

“What is the matter?” she said. Lord du Bois quickly grabbed a napkin and took the flower and put it in his pocket.

“I am sorry for the drama,” said du Bois, “but it’s highly poisonous. If you’re eating any food a petal could fall on your plate and …”

“I … am sorry,” said Marie.

“Please, no harm done,” said du Bois. “You can now, safely, enjoy the food. Please excuse me for a moment.”

wolfsbane“Vulpine, Please”

“What happened?’ said Phlebotomous who just arrived as du Bois left. “I saw him grab at you from the other side of the room. Is that a sort of dance?”

“No,” said Marie. “He removed my flower. He said it’s poisonous.”

“Oh,” said Phlebotomous, “yes, to humans it is. I forgot.”

“Well, I must say were running out of luck here,” said Sir John. “The flower is gone. The silverware is made of gold, and I haven’t seen a drop of vinegar.”

“No, apparently Lord du Bois doesn’t like vinegar,” said Phlebotomous. “I overheard him telling the Mallum’s butler.”

“Strange thing to … wait, he doesn’t like vinegar?” said Sir John.

“Yes, that’s what I just said,” said Phlebotomous,

“But why deny your guests?” said Sir John. “I don’t like mustard, but I would still serve it.”

“Unless you didn’t want it around you at all,” said Marie.

“Didn’t want what around you?” said du Bois, reappearing. The trio all looked at him guiltily.

“I brought you this, Mrs Jennings,” said du Bois, holding out a rose. “I felt guilty for wrenching your flower from you earlier, so fetched a replacement from the garden.”

“Thank you,” said Marie, “We we’re remarking on your silverware.”

Lord du Bois chuckled.

“The goldware you mean,” he said. “Actually, it’s only goldplated, but I much prefer the colour to silver. I imagine it looks a little ostentatious. The locals regard it with a kind of awe.”

“It’s … different,” said Marie, “but each to his own.”

“Oh!” said du Bois, “On that we can certainly agree! But, please, permit me license to abandon you again.”

Lord du Bois left and the Jennings and Phlebotomous stood there.

“Are you wondering what I’m wondering?” said Sir John.

“Whether this is a waltz or not?” said Phlebotomous.

“No,” said Sir John. “We came here looking for someone who hates wolfsbane, vinegar, and silver. I think we may have found him.”

He glanced at Lord du Bois standing on the other side of the room.

Meet the Author

Paul MichaelDoes this man appear to be a professional?

A number of readers have expressed interest in learning more about the manner in which The Benthic Times is produced to such a high, professional standard on a weekly basis. There have even been stories suggesting that Mr Michael and Ms Pichette are mere fictions and that the magazine is produced by a crack team of professional writers and artists. Flattering though such allusions are, we can categorically state that these rumours are false.

We present as evidence the drawing above, rendered by Ms Pichette, of Mr Michael in the midst of creating another thrilling yet amusing story. One glance at the writer at work reveals the keen intellect of the literate mind whilst the image itself speaks volumes  to the magisterial aesthetic vision of a true talent in the artist. We hope this small insight into the world of The Benthic Times satisfies some of our readers’ fascinations and expands their enjoyment of partaking of our modest yet scintillating artistic endeavour.

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 9

Music was playing, people were talking, so the air was filled with merry sounds. On a large chair sat Phlebotomous Bosch with the four Mallum sisters around him. The sisters were glaring at each other, even Prudence and Constance. Phlebotomous sat staring ahead of him, oblivious to the girls’ attentions.

“Mr Bosch, have you considered dancing at all?” asked Patience.

“Is this a waltz?” asked Phlebotomous.

“No, Mr Bosch, it is a circle dance, a country dance,” said Patience.

“I can only dance a waltz,” said Phlebotomous. “And I don’t have much experience of that.”

Joy looked smugly at her sisters who glared back at her.

“Was that why you were dancing the waltz with Mrs Jennings yesterday?” said Constance. Her other sisters looked shocked at her.

“Yes,” said Phlebotomous. “That was the total of my experience.”

“Mrs Jennings has rather a strange flower pinned to her gown,” said Constance. “It’s not very becoming.”

“It’s an aconite,” said Phlebotomous. “I picked it for her.”

The girls all looked shocked at this, and a small tear formed in Prudence’s eye.

“I’d better go and speak to Sir John and Mrs Jennings,” said Phlebotomous and got up to leave.

note 6“A Waltz?”

Three of the girls rose and followed, but Prudence stayed behind. After they had gone she stretched out onto the chair and wiped the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. It slipped from her fingers and as she knelt down to pick it up she saw a scrap of paper. She looked at it, puzzled, then her eyes lit up.

“What are you doing?” said Patience, who was returning with a glass of wine.

“Nothing,” said Prudence who quickly folded the paper and hid it in her sleeve. “I had better get some wine, too.”

Prudence left with a skip in her stride and didn’t notice the piece of paper fall out of her sleeve as she left. Patience was staring at her sister leave and then noticed a bit of paper on the chair. She read it and her eyes widened. She hastily tucked it into her sash and smiled behind the wine. Joy came and sat next to her and looked at her sister disapprovingly. A gentleman invited Patience to dance, which she accepted with a flourish, causing the paper to slip, unnoticed, onto the seat.

Joy watched sourly as her sister walked to the dancefloor. She spotted the scrap of paper on the chair with puzzlement. She picked it up and read it, and a slow smile spread across her face. She dropped the paper on the tray of food she had and reclined happily with a religious book, as a servant came and took the tray away.

The servant noticed the paper as he was taking the tray and saw Constance walking back to the seat where the sisters had been sitting.

“Miss, I believe this is yours,” he said to Constance and passed her the paper.

Constance took it and read the paper.

“Dearest M, Meet me at the full moon at the special place. B.”

She beamed with happiness and put the paper in her purse.

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 10

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 8

“A ball!” shouted Patience. “Really, a ball! A real one! In Bennet House?”

“That is what Lord du Bois said,” said Sir John, standing, with Marie, just in the doorway to the Mallum’s front room. The announcement he had just made had had a profound impact on the family which was gathered there along with Phlebotomous.

“I shall not go,” said Joy firmly.

“Everyone shall go!” said Mr Mallum, “We shall show our appreciation for Lord du Bois’ generosity.”

Joy started to open her mouth, but her mother patted her gently on the hand and smiled at her.

“Will there be music? Maybe I can play!” said Prudence.

“Oh, no! Oh, no!” wailed Patience.

“I don’t play so poorly,” said Prudence, looking distraught.

“No sister, it’s not your piano playing. Oh Father, our clothes are seasons out of date. We shall be laughing stocks. Tell them, Mrs Jennings,” said Patience.

Mr Mallum looked panicked.

“Is this true?” he said to Marie. She hesitated to speak.

“It is true, see!” said Patience. “It’s a disaster.”

“We must make for Plymouth at once!” said Mr Mallum. He opened the door and shouted,

“Marsh! Marsh! Prepare the carriage. Girls, Mrs Mallum, we must leave at once.”

With much noise, dissention and excitement, the Mallums left the room. A quiet descended.

cc-ch-8“A Ball?”

“So,” said Phlebotomous, “I gather there is to be a ball.”

“Yes,” said Sir John, “and it’s a bit of luck for us. Lord du Bois has set it deliberately so we may meet the villagers. But I rather hope we can use it to find our werewolf.”

“At the ball?” said Phlebotomous.

“Indeed,” said Sir John. “Blast, if only we had our books on magical creatures. There must be some tell-tale signs of lycanthropy.”

“That we can check at the ball?” said Phlebotomous.

“Yes, I wonder if we can get Miss Henderson to send the relevant volumes,” mused Sir John.

“Oh, no need,” said Phlebotomous. “I know a surprising amount about them. But I may need some help from you first.”

“What is it?” said Sir John.

“What exactly happens at a ball?” asked Phlebotomus. Sir John and Marie looked at him.

“I know people go there to dance, but I haven’t been to one myself,” said Phlebotomus.

“Well, as you say, people gather there to dance and er … Marie?” said Sir John.

“I will explain after, Mr Bosch,” said Marie, “and I will teach you a few dance steps. I ‘ave a feeling you will need them.”

Phlebotomous looked puzzled at that.

“Well, for the werewolf, we’ll need silver, vinegar, or wolfsbane. Werewolves can be killed by silver weapons, vinegar can be used, rather gruesomely, as a cure, and wolfsbane forces them to assume their human state. So, as a general rule, a werewolf will avoid these things.”

“Well, I imagine they’ll be some silverware and vinegar at the ball,” said Sir John, “but where can we get wolfsbane?”

“What is the name in French?” said Marie. “I may have seen some.”

“I don’t know, but it’s also called monkshood or aconite,” said Phlebotomous.

“Ah, aconite!” said Marie. “There is some around the garden, I think. I can find it.”

“Tell me where it is and I can pick it by moonlight,” said Phlebotomous. “It’s more efficacious if picked then, and I often take a walk at night. Close to the house, of course.”

“Of course,” said Sir John, as you’re afraid of the dark.”

Marie found it necessary to place a handkerchief in front of her mouth.

“Then it’s settled,” said Sir John. “We shall unmask the lycanthrope at the ball.”

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 9